


Who The Hell Has An Arch Enemy?

by TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)



Series: TTM Prompts [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Greg is pissed, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mysterious Mycroft, pre-canon if you like, which means he is a... concerned party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToMystrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Greg is confronted by a well dressed stranger. The handsome stranger offers him money to spy on Sherlock." - Anon</p><p>Isn't this how it always goes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who The Hell Has An Arch Enemy?

Music bled from the radio in Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade’s office as he listened to it from his spot behind his desk. He nodded his head and tapped his foot to the beat of the song playing. Of course Lestrade had heard the song before but he did not know enough of the words to be confident enough to sing along, even with the comfort of knowing he was alone.

The Inspector ran his right hand through his head of silver hair that he had not particularly bothered to style or fix when he was called into work at a most ungodly hour of the morning. His left hand was still rifling through the paperwork spread across the desk in front of him. It was at times like this that Lestrade could completely agree with Sherlock’s description of mostly everything. Paperwork? Dull.

The tune of the song fled his thoughts as he huffed in frustration at a poor excuse for a case report. He flicked his wrist to send the offending piece of paper to the other side of his desk. The force of his resentful shove, however, caused the paper to sail too far and off the side of his desk.

Lestrade sighed and sat back in his chair while he squeezed the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. The inspector was then interrupted by a knock on the door. A gentle knock. More like a tap of knuckles on the wood.

Lestrade caught an another annoyed sigh before it left his lips and slumped in his chair with a fleeting thought that he was never going to finish his paperwork.

He shook his head to rid himself of the silly thoughts and pulled another file towards himself as he called in whoever was at the door. The inspector gripped the lid of his pen between his teeth to pull it off and he scribbled his signature at the bottom of the page.

He expected it to be Donovan or Dimmock who had knocked on his office door and so he waved offhandedly in the direction of the door. The gesture was meant to hold the incomer for the few seconds it took him to scrawl his name in the tiny box offered to him. At the sound of the clearing of a throat, though, Lestrade’s eyes left the paper and shot to the figure stood in the doorway. When he saw the stern, authoritative, well dressed man stood straight backed in the doorway of his office Lestrade straightened, pulling the pen lid from his mouth and smoothing the front of his jacket as he stood himself.

“I’m sorry, sir. Detective Inspector Lestrade. Can I help you?” Lestrade amended and introduced himself. He stepped around to the front of his desk, holding out his hand in offer of a hand shake.

The other man glanced at the offered hand and granted Lestrade with a raised eyebrow before taking his hand in the familiar gesture. Lestrade shook once formally although with a smile, waiting for a response.

“Indeed.” The bespoke man responded simply. He hooked the umbrella he had been holding in the crook of his arm and then used his now free hands to pull an envelope from his inside jacket pocket. He held it out to Lestrade delicately between index finger and thumb as he let the handle of his umbrella slide deftly down his forearm and into his other hand.

Lestrade stared skeptically at the item for a long moment before slipping it from the man’s hands slowly.

“You are acquainted with Sherlock Holmes, yes?” The man asked as he unhooked his umbrella and leaned forward on it with both hands. Before waiting for an answer he continued, “I am… a concerned party.”

Lestrade’s eyebrows lifted as his visitor introduced himself without giving away any details whatsoever. He noticed. It was his job to notice. “And who, may I ask, is the ‘concerned party’?”

Of course he knew Sherlock. Everyone knew Sherlock bloody Holmes. That did not mean that he would be telling this guy anything until he knew more about the who and why.

A smile graced the man’s lips momentarily but Lestrade knew better than to assume it real, in fact it was blatantly fake. Whether this man really didn’t care if he knew that or was bad at faking a smile, he didn’t know, but he didn’t trust him either way.

“He would call me many things.” Was the mysterious reply.

Lestrade frowned and took a step backwards, suddenly too close for his own liking. “Right.” He spoke with uncertainty, the shift in tone suggesting a question rather than a statement.

“Arch enemy perhaps is his preferred. He does so tend to the dramatics.”

That didn’t seem to help the confusion any so Lestrade looked to the envelope now in his hands. In delicate, precise swirls was written his name and title. He figured if any harm was to come from what it contained the other man would have at least stepped away but he kept unnaturally still. That made up the detective’s mind and he slipped his thumb under the flap that was simply tucked away rather than stuck down and pulled it open.

“If this is what I think it is you better think very carefully about what you want to ask of me, Mister.” Lestrade told him in a stern voice once he’d seen what was inside the envelope.

The man’s eyebrows rose marginally. “Not at all, Detective Inspector. I simply wish to know about his well-being amongst other things. This is apt payment, do you not agree?”

Lestrade’s anger peaked at that and he ripped the offending offering into halves before pushing it against the other man’s chest. “I am an officer of the law. If you think you can bribe me, you’re dead wrong. Now leave before I change my mind and get my cuffs out.”

The face of the suit seemed to soften into what could be described as something that resembled a genuine emotion. His lips twitched slightly and the air of intimidation that had before choked the room seemed to retreat. “I will see you again, Detective Inspector.” He nodded and turned so Lestrade was still gripping the torn cheque. “Do look after yourself, yes? Sherlock Holmes can be hell on one’s nerves.”

And with that he was gone. Door closed behind him as if to punctuate his farewell.

“Hell on one’s nerves? Who does he think he is? Sherlock is a walk in the park if he wants to compare dramatics.” Lestrade groaned to the ceiling. “Damn Holmes.” Sitting back at his desk, he had no idea that he was actually a damn sight closer to the truth than he dared believe.


End file.
